


Just a Glimpse

by Fidollwa



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Child Geralt, De-aged Geralt, Emotionally Constipated Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Fluff and Angst, Jaskier is havin feelings over this, Magical Shenanigans, Sad, might be shippy if you squint? but not really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-09
Updated: 2020-09-09
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:22:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26372635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fidollwa/pseuds/Fidollwa
Summary: Jaskier took it as somewhat of a personal challenge to get Geralt out of his shell. What better way to test your charms than on someone who is supposedly emotionless?Magical interference on what should've been a routine hunt, however, gives him a bit more insight into his witcher than expected.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 4
Kudos: 83





	Just a Glimpse

The world, Jaskier thought, was both wild and stifled at the same time. 

Wild from, well, the wilderness. Beyond stone walls and metal gates were vast stretches of untamed land. Stories whispered to children to trick them into behaving told of things that went bump in the night. And that sometimes those bumps got too close to home. 

Stifled from the way people seemed to react to it. The unknown was out there. Outside of town, down the street, on the other side of their front doors. A clear dividing line of human and not. Good and not. A system so simple was bound to make mistakes, as he can attest to himself. 

His dear witcher though? Well, Geralt of Rivia had been rather firmly one on side of that line for longer than Jaskier had existed. The fact that the man was a witcher was enough on its own. Combined with his less than stellar reputation? Well, Jaskier had narrowly avoided enough stones and over ripe fruit to know. 

To the untrained eye though, Geralt was utterly unaffected. A stone faced demeanor in the face of such vitriol literally running him out of town. In the beginning Jaskier nearly bought into it. Witchers and their no emotion deal, that is. 

But Jaskier fancied himself more observant than the average man. It'd make for rather lousy prose otherwise. So he noticed how the witcher gripped Roach's reins a bit tighter whenever they entered a town. Never really relaxing until he was alone. Not even around Jaskier, much to his disappointment. Senses too sharp over years of training and mutations, Geralt always knew when Jaskier was approaching or faking sleep.

It was frustrating. Absolutely baffling. And a personal challenge Jaskier set for himself. 

He was used to charming people. Part of the job really. A bard people didn't like usually went hungry, after all. It was almost a game then to try and charm the pants off of someone who was, rather infamously, emotionless. 

Over time though the task started to carry a bit more weight. Well, probably not that much time. Shortly after the incident with Filavandrel perhaps? The banquet? Somewhere in between? It hardly mattered.

What did matter was how Geralt's lips would twitch for just a moment when Jaskier sang about something particularly ridiculous. The bard would always hold back a grin at the reaction. If Jaskier pointed it out the stubborn bastard would make a point to not allow himself even that much. 

The witcher would secret away little treats for Roach. Jaskier would whine and pout dramatically at the fact that Geralt was giving preferential treatment to a horse of all things. The witcher would blink. Explain in a dead pan that the horse was more useful than the bard. 

Jaskier would put on a show of being offended every time. But, weirdly enough, he gets it. The fact is that this man, who is something beyond a man, lives longer than most anyone in this era could sneeze at. The fact is that it was in the nature of the job to stay out on the road. Combined by most townsfolks' rather vehement hatred?

Well no wonder Jaskier was outranked by a horse. Roach was loyal and present, which is more than can be said for the majority of Geralt's acquaintances. She also didn't pelt the man with rotten fruit, so that was a plus. 

So Jaskier's task shifted slightly. Get the man to actually smile. And get him a friend that wasn't a damn horse.

Jaskier would prefer that it be him, sure, but he was growing more practical after his travels with the witcher. His presence seemed to grate on Geralt at times. The man valued the silence, the peace and quiet. Jaskier very much did not. That and trying to set up Geralt with more emotional support than a horse resulted in Jaskier rather uncomfortably confronting his own mortality.

Jaskier was just a simple bard. A human bard. Humans aged and died. He'd be able to accompany the witcher maybe a few decades, if that? That's assuming nothing unfortunate happens to Jaskier in the meantime and considering his track record? Yes, he's not that delusional. 

Either an angry husband or an equally angry creature of some sort would do him in eventually. 

Geralt, therefore, needed more long term companionship. Even Roach, lovely loyal steed that she was, would pass eventually too. 

So Jaskier considered other witchers. They assumedly all had that single minded, workaholic mentality for monster slaying. Plus the lifespan assured they'd be sticking around longer than a normal human.

That plan, however, was dashed rather quickly.

It was common knowledge witchers weren't exactly common anymore. The nature of the job, Jaskier assumed, and the public image certainly didn't help. What he did not know was how few they actually numbered. They couldn't even make any more. A dying breed, he heard one tavern owner comment. Jaskier couldn't exactly argue with that.

He learned just as fast to not mention that fact to Geralt. 

Asking about any remaining witchers gave Geralt this pinched look. It was as pained as it was nostalgic. There and gone in a moment. Replaced by the neutral, slightly annoyed, mask the witcher had cultivated. 

Geralt had tended to the fire, not looking his way. At first Jaskier thought he wasn't going to get any response. Then...

"Kaer Morhen is a ruin," Geralt looked out across the fire, tone flat. "It used to be our home. It'll crumble away from the elements, give or take a few decades. Just like the witchers."

Jaskier had no response. 

In that stretch of a few seconds he got more emotion out of the man in months. Except it wasn't a smile when he thought Jaskier wasn't looking. It was the acceptance of his own extinction. Whether by man or time the witchers would die out and it showed on Geralt's face.

It was progress. But the churning in Jaskier's stomach after that conversation belied any satisfaction from it.

Over time he learned of the few witchers Geralt still knew of. But instead of grouping together like Jaskier thought they ought to, they were spread across the world. Better coverage for monster hunting he supposed. They didn't cross paths often. Certainly not as often as Jaskier would've liked.

So while the witchers were undoubtedly loyal, it was the present part that was a stickler here. 

The next option was a mage. Forever young and unchanging, one could qualify for this role. Most were powerful enough to keep themselves out of trouble. Or get themselves into it just as well.

But when the first name Jaskier thought of was _Yennefer_ he very quickly and decidedly denied that idea. 

Even though Jaskier was undoubtedly biased, Yennefer of Vengerberg was not the best candidate. Her own ambitions aside even, she wasn't ideal. Her and Geralt's relationship was not exactly on speaking terms at the moment. Plus when they were on speaking terms there wasn't a whole of speaking going on. That and the fact that meddling in that relationship was likely bad for Jaskier's health. All it would accomplish was getting the two of them to argue over who got to skewer the bard first. 

Again, loyal to a point, but not present. 

Jaskier sighed, trying to shake the thoughts out of his head. Here he was, accompanying Geralt on a hunt and all he could think of was the witchers stellar lack of meaningful companionship. Jaskier huffed, setting his lute down. 

Roach tossed her head, blissfully ignoring him in favor of a patch of grass. Jaskier was sat at the base of an old gnarled tree, anxiously drumming his fingers against his thigh. He meant to try and string together a tune. Thanks to his own damned thoughts, however, that was out of the window. 

The forest was entirely too quiet. Certainly too silent for a witcher to be fighting nearby. Jaskier frowned, leaned his head back and sighed again. The only audience was Roach who seemed to give a look almost as reproachful as Geralt.

"It's been ages, don't give me that," he griped, feeling ridiculous as he did so. Geralt might make it a habit to talk to Roach but Jaskier knows the horse would rather bite his fingers off. 

Jaskier brushed the dust off his pants with a frown. They'd been on the road for a while now. Geralt had had difficulty finding work in the region, forcing them to travel soley on the coin Jaskier made. It wasn't an insignificant amount but it barely covered decent lodging and a meal over time. 

"Maybe I'll try the new set at the next tavern, hmm?" Jaskier glanced to Roach. He picked up his lute and strummed a few chords experimentally. His confidence wasn't as high as with his other works but Jaskier knew he had a few crowd pleasers in there at least.

Desperate for work as he was, Geralt took the first contract he came across. A rather shifty looking farmer told a tale of a 'devil' in the forest and travelers going missing. Apparently quite a few poor children were left confused and orphaned after the whole ordeal.

Knowing what happened the last time Geralt went hunting for a devil however, Jaskier was hesitant. Hopefully it was just an exaggeration. He trusted Geralt's judgement, however, and hoped he returned quickly. They weren't even sure what the creature was after all.

His anxiety disapated as he heard foot steps nearing their little camp. Except... Jaskier clutched his lute a bit tighter. Geralt moved with a grace that you wouldn't expect for someone his size. That is to say, Jaskier never heard him coming until the witcher was already in eyesight. Unless he was horribly injured or something along those lines.

Or it could be someone else. A bandit perhaps. But the noises weren't quite coming in this direction. They seemed to be wandering back off, meandering around. 

"If that oaf took another blow to the head I'm going to leave him to starve," Jaskier hissed, quickly setting his lute down. 

He knew the witcher would likely tell him off for going to investigate. Fragile little human bard body, after all. But Jaskier rationalized that he had his own dagger now. If it was a bandit they were a pretty poor one if Jaskier had to go and find them himself.

"Psh," Jaskier muttered to himself, pulling out the new and unused dagger with a bit of trepidation, "a bumbling bandit that has to stumble into his riches. I could write something about that."

He pushes slowly through underbrush, not quite willing to call out on the off chance it wasn't an injured Geralt. The hesitation pays off when he narrowly avoids a sword swiping where he had been a moment earlier.

"Stay back!"

Jaskier does him one better and scrambles away, taking in his attacker. Decidedly not a bandit but a child.

Maybe around ten or eleven, he was a good bit shorter than Jaskier. The sword in the child's hands was held steady but with a white knuckle grip that was sure to be painful later. Clearly panicked but skilled enough with a sword to cut Jaskier down if he wasn't careful.

But it the wide, yellow eyes and white hair were details Jaskier's brain was more focused on.

"Geralt?" He choked out, feeling a bit faint. 

If anything that made the child- because that's what Geralt _was now_ , apparently- was more on edge than before. He levelled the sword, steady and pointed it straight at Jaskier's chest.

"Who are you? How do you know of me?" 

Hearing his voice was just as much a shock. It was similar to the Geralt he knew, sure, but lacked the usual growl and gravel in the tone. If Jaskier didn't know any better he'd thought his voice even trembled just a bit. Feeling entirely out of his depth, Jaskier tried for a reassuring grin. He then very carefully disarmed himself. Seeing the dagger get tossed aside seemed to calm the child somewhat but not enough for him to actually lower that sword. 

"I'm sure you're feeling very... confused," Jaskier said as diplomatically as he could manage, "but I'm a friend, I assure you."

Adult Geralt would not appreciate being described as frightened in nearly every context. Child Geralt however adjusted his grip on the sword. Glancing this way and that, looking for threats or an escape route perhaps.

"I don't believe you," the child said honestly. "How did you bring me here?"

"I didn't bring you anywhere!" Jaskier protested, voice rising in pitch as the sword was brought closer to him. "I heard you stumbling around out here and came to investigate!"

Was... was little Geralt pouting now? Oh it certainly had that trademark, angry Geralt flavor to it but that downturn of the lips couldn't be called anything but a pout. 

The child scoffed. "I wasn't stumbling. I was tracking."

"Tracking what, exactly?" 

"I don't know!" Geralt insisted angrily. "That's what I was going to figure out until you showed up!"

Jaskier thought about it for a moment. If the trail young Geralt was tracking lead him back here, perhaps it was his own elder self he was trying to find? Regardless, Jaskier had an armed and distrustful boy who was likely still better skilled in combat than he was.

"Right, right," Jaskier acquiesced, "my apologies. I know witchery business is important to you lot. Still if we could just put away the sword-"

He slowly, experimentally pushed the tip of the blade away from his body. Geralt let him, glare seeming out of place on such a young face.

"Now then," Jaskier let himself breathe a sigh of relief now that he wasn't inches away from being skewered, "as I said, I am a friend. My name is Jaskier but you... clearly don't remember me."

Geralt's eyebrows drew together. "No? I've never met anyone by that name."

"Well you have. Or you will? Either way, clearly you've been afflicted with something since you're usually," Jaskier trailed off, gesturing to Geralt as a whole.

"I'm usually what?"

What normally would've been an intimidating growl just did not have nearly the same effect coming from someone who sounded so young. 

"Uh, tall? Grown up?" Jaskier had no idea how to describe this to Geralt. He had no idea if this version of him would even be able to tell if he was lying but Jaskier didn't want to push it. 

The child blinked, taken aback. "Grown up? I'm-"

It seemed like the mere concept threw the child. Remembering himself, Geralt frowns, weighing the sword in his hand. Weighing the merits of using it, more likely.

"I'm sure you don't believe me," Jaskier said quickly, "which is smart, of course. But? I am your friend and I will do you no harm. You left your equipment back at our-my camp. There's a pouch full of witcher potions there too." 

Not looking convinced, Geralt says, "Oh yeah? Like what?"

Jaskier had never, ever been more thankful he was enough of a snoop to dig in a witchers satchel. Geralt had caught him of course. That lead to a lesson on what they all were as well as how painfully they would interact with his poor human body. 

"Well! You've got swallow, white honey, cat, tawny owl- shall I continue?

Little Geralt frowned, narrowed his eyes. "How do you know all that?"

"Again, I'm rather lucky to be friends with a Witcher who shares this information. I hardly look like witcher material myself, yeah?"

Geralt gives him a look over. From the frown on his face Jaskier has been found wanting.

"I don't know. You probably would've died had you tried."

The brutal honesty of it wasn't new but Jaskier huffed regardless. 

"Anyway!" He barreled on. "Clearly you need some manner of magical intervention and I'm not even sure what happened to you. You can keep the sword at my back if you want to just- let me help you at least?"

It came out more pleading than he intended but Jaskier was really gambling on Geralt trusting him. If adult Geralt was anything to go by, he was in for a rough time. But he couldn't just let a child, future witcher or not, wander lost around the woods. The sooner Geralt went back to his neutral, scowling self the better. 

Especially since child Geralt scoffed, looking almost smug. With all the confidence a young boy could muster, he said, "I could take you in a fight."

Jaskier blinked. He couldn't help the helpless little laugh that bubbled out of him. Geralt was so... expressive compared to his usual self. The circumstances certainly weren't ideal but _still_!

Jaskier nodded sagely. "Of course. I'm more liable to stab myself than you, after all. Now if you'll follow me, little witcher?"

Geralt looked suspicious as Jaskier jerked a thumb towards their camp. Maybe seeing he had no other option other than to figure it out on his own, Geralt nodded. Jaskier very carefully began retracing his steps. The child fell into step behind him. The sword wasn't pointed at his back but it wasn't sheathed either.

He'd gladly take that over being stabbed. Now Jaskier only had the rather tall order of getting them to someone who can reverse this.

His thoughts were side tracked as Geralt piped up behind him. 

"Will I... Or am I-" Jaskier stopped, looking back to find Geralt looking painfully hesitant, "Do I actually become a witcher? A real one, I mean."

Jaskier was thrown and found himself answering before he even thought about it.

"One of the best," he said seriously. "Well, I may be biased but you're a hero, Geralt. I write enough songs about your exploits to know."

Wide eyes blinked back at him. Geralt looked down at the ground for a moment, thinking it over. Then, inexplicably, a small but proud smile formed on his face. 

Jaskier felt his heart ache. The innocent little expression was so at odds with what he knew of the witcher. Current Geralt would never allow himself that. Getting any positive reaction out of the man was akin to pulling teeth. An utter crime, Jaskier thought, for the world to have stifled Geralt so. 

Jaskier cleared his throat to get past the feeling. "And a real hero needs both a bard to tell his tales and valiant, noble steed. I have the honor of introducing you to your _second_ biggest fan!"

**Author's Note:**

> So, got inspired by some art I saw! 
> 
> Here's the link- https://daryshkart.tumblr.com/post/625617501687005184/portrait-with-your-past-self-or-with-your-future
> 
> Anyway, first piece for the Witcher. Not entirely sure when Geralt actually went through the trial of the grasses? But uh here this is anyway.
> 
> And check out the art! It's good! Got tiny versions of Geralt and Jaskier!


End file.
